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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457052">Nobody Tells Me Anything</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/steverogersandpeggycarter/pseuds/steverogersandpeggycarter'>steverogersandpeggycarter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:15:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/steverogersandpeggycarter/pseuds/steverogersandpeggycarter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter has been acting strange lately, and Jack Thompson intends to find out why.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nobody Tells Me Anything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack Thompson was late for work.  He’d had a late night the night before, and he hadn’t even been out drinking—he’d taken a couple guys with him to trail a suspected Russian assassin.  They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the assassin, and they’d all lost a lot of sleep.<br/>
“Late night, Thompson?” Lucinda, Rose’s replacement, inquired as she unlocked the hidden SSR door for him.  </p><p>Thompson grunted in response and hustled through the bullpen to his office.  He shut the door behind him, tossed his hat on its peg, and sank into his desk chair with his feet on the desk.  With any luck, nobody would disturb him.</p><p>Almost as soon as he had closed his eyes, someone knocked at the door.  Thompson hauled his feet back down from the desk and swore.  “Come in!”</p><p>Agent Peabody, one of the new recruits that had been hired since Sousa went to L.A., stuck his head in the door.  “Sorry to bother you, Chief,” he said.  “Thought you might want to know that Carter’s back.”</p><p>“Carter’s back?” Jack shot upright in his chair.  “After all that fuss about transferring to L.A.? What’s she doing here?  Send her in.”</p><p>What in the world had possessed Carter to come back to New York?  The last he’d heard of her, she was turning in all the papers she needed to transfer to the West Coast branch of the SSR.  He didn’t know what she wanted with the blazing heat of southern California, but it was easier to run the New York branch with her out of his hair.  So far, things had been considerably quieter without her around.  Unfortunately, there were a lot of unsolved cases piling up, and Carter’s replacement had turned out to be one of the slowest and most unhelpful guys in the office.</p><p>“Chief Thompson.”  Peggy Carter stood in the doorway, her clothes and red lipstick pristine, face unreadable as usual.  </p><p>Jack cut right to the chase.  “Peggy, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’ve been sent back to the New York branch.  Colonel Phillips’s authority.”  Peggy’s voice was crisp.  “Jack, you look terrible.”</p><p>“You oughtta try waiting in an alley all night for a Russian spy that never shows up,” Jack said.  “Seriously, what are you doing here?  Does Phillips think there’s some case here that we can’t crack without you?”</p><p>“I requested the transfer.” Peggy stepped closer to Jack’s desk.  </p><p>How did Peggy get so buddy-buddy with Phillips?  He was the head of the entire SSR, and Jack had only seen him a few times.  Phillips was one of the crankiest men Jack had ever seen, and he couldn’t imagine that the man would be happy with Peggy transferring to L.A. and then right back to New York.</p><p>“How in the world did he agree to that?” Jack asked.</p><p>“Colonel Phillips and I knew each other during the war,” Peggy said.  “Now, I understand there are some cases that are waiting for agents to pick them up.  I’m available, and I’d like to take a look at them, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>Jack slid open a desk drawer and pulled out the files for the cases he’d been unable to assign to anyone yet.  He held them a moment, thinking.</p><p>“Sounds like you knew an awful lot of people during the war,” he said to Peggy, trying to keep his tone conversational.  Ever since his trip to Russia with Peggy and the Howling Commandos, he’d realized there was a lot more to Peggy’s war story than she would ever tell anyone.</p><p>“I was with the SSR in Europe during the war, and Colonel Phillips was my commanding officer.” Peggy reached for the files, and Jack reluctantly handed them over.</p><p>As soon as Peggy had left, closing the door behind her, Jack dialed the L.A. branch of the SSR.</p><p>“Chief Thompson,” he told the man who answered the phone.  “Put me through to Sousa.”</p><p>Daniel Sousa’s voice was as tired as Jack’s had been.  “Thompson.”</p><p>“Sousa, what the hell is going on here?” Jack said.  “I come into work this morning, after a night of chasing bad guys that don’t show up, and I find Carter waiting around for assignments!  What’s she doing here?  L.A. office too boring for her now that Whitney Frost isn’t running around making people disappear?  Howard Stark kick her out of that villa?”</p><p>Daniel sighed loudly.  “Jack, can’t you mind your own business?  Peggy and I were seeing each other.  It’s over now.  Naturally, she went back to New York.”</p><p>“Oh.”  Jack had to process this new information.  “You and Peggy were dating?”</p><p>“Yes.  Now we’re not.”  Daniel’s voice was strained.  “Any more questions?”</p><p>“No, I guess not,” Jack said.  “Didn’t mean to bring up a sore topic.  I didn’t know.”</p><p>“Well, you do now.”  A click marked the end of the conversation.</p><p>Why hadn’t he heard about that before?  He’d always figured Daniel was head over heels for Peggy—it wasn’t hard to see why—but he’d never been able to figure out how Peggy felt about Daniel, or about anybody else for that matter.  Jack had never met another woman who seemed so completely stoic about everything.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>The spring of 1949 was particularly stressful for the New York branch of the SSR.  They received word that some powerful men in New York were backing a team of scientists to create a weapon more powerful than the atomic bomb, and half the office was running around undercover trying to figure out who the men in charge of the operation were.  </p><p>In the middle of all this fuss, Jack was surprised one early May morning when Peggy came into his office with a facial expression he’d never seen before.  She looked <i>happy</i>.  Not just ordinarily happy, but almost glowing.  </p><p>“What happened?” The only reason Jack could think of for Peggy looking like that was if she’d solved the case.  “Did you catch that bunch of millionaires?”</p><p>“Millionaires?” Peggy looked confused.  “Oh, that case.”  She shook her head.  “No, I’m afraid not.  I came in to request a week of vacation.”</p><p>“<i>Vacation</i>?” Jack couldn’t believe his ears.  “We’re in the middle of this case, and you wanna get up and leave, just like that?  Do you mind telling me why?”</p><p>“It’s a personal matter, Chief Thompson,” Peggy said, with a lighter tone than Jack had ever heard her use before.</p><p>“Don’t you think the office needs you?  You’re kind of leaving us in the lurch here, Marge,” Jack said.</p><p>Peggy frowned at the name and leaned in over his desk, fixing him with a stern eye.  “I seem to remember you telling me the New York office could get along fine without me when you kicked me off the Underwood case and sent me to L.A.”</p><p>Jack sighed.  “Fine, all right, take your vacation.  But you better be here bright and early next Tuesday!”</p><p>When she’d left, he sat back in his chair to think.  What was going on here?  If Peggy was any other woman he’d have thought she was in love—wait.</p><p>Jack picked up the phone and dialed Daniel Sousa.</p><p>Daniel was in the middle of a case and not happy to be interrupted.  “No, Peggy and I haven’t gotten back together!  Why in the world would you think that?  She’s still out in New York, isn’t she?”</p><p>“Well, she just asked for a week of vacation, and she seemed <i>happy</i>, so I thought maybe she had a reason to fly back out to California…”</p><p>Daniel sighed.  “Jack, you have a curiosity problem.”</p><p>“I just like to know what’s going on in my own office, that’s all!” Jack retorted.  “So you have no idea what’s going on with Carter?”</p><p>“Nothing at all.  Goodbye, Jack, I’m busy.” Daniel hung up.</p><p>Jack wasn’t satisfied.  When he noticed, later that day, that Peggy had inadvertently left her jacket on the back of her chair, he decided to take an opportunity and bring it back to her.  Although the addresses of SSR agents were confidential, Jack had access to them since becoming the chief of the New York office.  He dug up Peggy’s address from his files and drove down there before dinner.</p><p>When he got there, Jack had to triple-check the address to make sure there wasn’t some mistake.  Peggy Carter lived <i>here</i>?  How could she possibly afford it?  The house was enormous!  It was in the same ritzy part of New York where Jack suspected those millionaires backing the weapons project lived.  Was that a rooftop terrace?  Jack craned his neck to look more closely at the building as he approached the front steps.  There had to be some mistake. </p><p>He rang the doorbell and heard it clang inside the house.  Someone in heels approached the door.</p><p>Good, she hadn’t left yet.  Of course, she might take the jacket and then slam the door in his face.  Jack prepared to get as much of a glimpse inside the place as he could.</p><p>The door opened, and Jack instantly regretted coming there.  It wasn’t Peggy.  It was that curly-haired girl that had been Peggy’s next-door neighbor at the Griffith—the one who had sobbed into Jack’s shoulder about her grandmother a few years back.  At the time, the SSR had been looking for Peggy because they thought she was a traitor to the U.S., along with Howard Stark.  When Daniel and Jack had questioned this girl about Peggy’s whereabouts, she’d burst into tears and made Jack look like an idiot comforting her.  Afterwards he’d wondered if she was covering for Peggy the whole time.</p><p>“I don’t usually find federal agents on my doorstep,” the girl said, with a hint of a smirk.  “If you’re looking for English, she’s not here.”</p><p>“English?” Jack felt a little slow on the uptake.</p><p>“Peggy Carter.  What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I might ask you the same thing.”  Jack was peering beyond the girl into the house.  It was lavishly furnished.  There was no way Peggy could afford any of it on the salary he was paying her.</p><p>The girl guessed his thoughts.  “A bit bigger than the Griffith, isn’t it?”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Is that a woman’s jacket?”</p><p>Jack remembered his public reason for going there.  “Carter left this at the office,” he said, holding it out.  “Figured I’d return it to her before she went on her vacation.”</p><p>The girl’s lips quirked.  “Thanks,” she said.  “I’ll make sure she gets it.”</p><p>She went inside and shut the door.  With a sigh, Jack went back to his car.  Now he had even more questions.  Who was paying for Peggy to live there?  Certainly not her former neighbor from the Griffith.  Maybe it was Howard Stark.  Everybody knew Peggy and Howard were thick as thieves, and he had houses all over the place.  Peggy had stayed at his villa in L.A. when she was out there.  </p><p>That didn’t explain why she suddenly looked so happy, though.  If she was in love—which had been Jack’s first guess and was still his pet theory—he doubted Howard Stark was the guy.  He’d seen Peggy around Howard plenty of times.  She wasn’t the kind of woman who would fall for Howard’s type of charm.</p><p>Jack sighed again and went to get a dinner and a beer.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>Peggy’s cheery state remained after coming back from her vacation.  Jack couldn’t exactly say he minded her being happy—it made things easier around the office, because her tendency to snap at everyone was considerably reduced—but curiosity still niggled at him.</p><p>He tried to get her to open up, one late morning, by coming by to take her lunch order.  Before the whole thing with Whitney Frost in L.A., Jack had figured it was Peggy’s job to get the lunch orders and things like that.  She was the only dame in the office, after all.  Since then he had figured out how much she hated taking the lunch orders.  Now, whenever he wanted to mollify her, he would take the orders himself.</p><p>“What do you want for lunch, Carter?” he asked, swinging by her desk.  “Don’t say pickled herring salad.”</p><p>Peggy looked up from her paperwork.  “Thank you, Jack, but actually, I’m going out for lunch,” she said.</p><p>Jack stared at her.  Since when did Carter go out for lunch?</p><p>“New boyfriend?” he asked, hoping it sounded off-the-cuff.</p><p>Peggy stared at him.  “Chief Thompson, is this your method of making conversation?” she asked.  </p><p>Jack might have known he wouldn’t get anything out of her.  “Have a good lunch,” he said hastily, hurrying on to the next desk.</p><p>He called the orders in and sent somebody else to pick them up.  When Carter left the office at noon precisely, he pulled his hat low over his eyes and followed her at a safe distance.</p><p>Carter headed to the same restaurant where she’d had that showdown with him and Sousa in 1946—the L &amp; L Automat.  Jack waited until she’d gone in and slowly approached the doors.</p><p>He stopped short.  The woman behind the counter, plainly visible through the glass, was no other than Peggy’s housemate with the curly hair.  If he walked in there, she’d spot him right away, and she’d tell Peggy all about it.  Jack wasn’t about to let Peggy know he was following her.  Instead of going in, he stood outside the window and peered in towards the restaurant booths.</p><p>Craning his neck, he could see Peggy’s head with its red hat in the last booth to the left.  There she was.  Jack nearly jumped with excitement when he saw there was someone sitting opposite her in the booth.  He’d been right—Peggy <i>was</i> going out for lunch with a guy.</p><p>The guy had blond hair and broad shoulders.  He was big.  From the back, Jack would have pegged him for a lumberjack.  It helped that the guy was wearing a plaid shirt.</p><p>Unfortunately, Jack couldn’t get a view of the guy’s face.  The booth was too far away from the window for Jack to get a better angle.  Instead he craned his neck to look at Peggy’s face, which was lit up like a Christmas tree.  Was she holding hands with that guy across the table?</p><p>A voice spoke from behind him, and Jack jumped a foot in the air.  “Can I help you?” </p><p>Jack groaned interiorly.  It was Peggy’s curly-haired housemate.  </p><p>“You can’t read the menu that well through the window,” the girl said, hands on hips.  “Why don’t you come in?”</p><p>“Thanks,” Jack said hastily.  “I’m just—I have to get back to the office, actually.”</p><p>He hurried away before the girl had a chance to say anything else. It seemed like everyone was conspiring against him to keep Peggy’s mystery man a mystery.  </p><p>Back at the office, Jack ate his cold lunch in a tearing hurry and got back to work.  He kept an eye out for Peggy, expecting her to arrive late, but she walked back into the office at 1 PM on the dot.</p><p>Jack had to walk past Peggy’s desk on his way to talk to another agent.  “Had a nice walk?” Peggy asked blandly, one eyebrow raised.  Jack ignored her.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>A few weeks later, Peggy came into Jack’s office and informed him that (1) she would like to be taken off the Thursday night shift that she’d had for the past year, please and thank you, and (2) she was changing her address. </p><p>Jack leaned back in his chair.  “You wanna tell me <i>why</i> you’re changing your address?” he asked.</p><p>“Because I’m moving, of course,” Peggy said, giving him a look that invited no further question.  </p><p>It cost Jack a heroic effort not to snoop around at Peggy’s new address.  Peggy’s love life wasn’t his business.  Besides, he’d already been caught following her around twice—he didn’t want to get a reputation for stalking women.  But it was maddening to catch so many hints of a clandestine romance going on right under the nose of a Federal agency.</p><p>A week after the change-of-address conversation, Jack, a fairly green agent named Williams, and Peggy ended up together on a mission to infiltrate a fancy-dress evening party.  Jack usually enjoyed these missions.  He liked swaggering around pretending to be rich, and while he was looking for clues he had a chance to get in with important people.  </p><p>He was in the middle of a conversation with the wife of a New York state senator when Peggy brushed by in her disguise and signaled for him to follow her.  Reluctantly Jack made his excuses to the state senator’s wife and made his way slowly out to the hallway, finishing his champagne as he went.</p><p>He found Peggy in the hall with Agent Williams.  “Thompson, you idiot,” Peggy hissed at him.  “Get moving!  Our cover’s been blown, and we’ve got to get out of here!”</p><p>They hurried down the hallway, slowing down to walk leisurely across the large foyer of the house.  It wouldn’t do to let the household staff see them tearing out of the building like they were running from an explosion.  </p><p>They were slightly too late.  As they started down the driveway, there was a shout from the front of the house.  “There they are!”</p><p>There was nothing to do but run for it.  Jack took off like a rocket, with Peggy and Williams at his heels.  Jack had to admit that for a girl, Peggy was pretty fast.</p><p>A shot rang out.  “They’re shooting at us!” Agent Williams panted.  </p><p>“They’re not anywhere close to hitting us,” Peggy snapped.  “Shooting at them will only slow us down.  Besides, they can’t aim well in the dark.” </p><p>Once they reached the road, they all ducked behind a car and peered out.  Two men were following them.  </p><p>“Wait,” Peggy said quietly.  “They expect us to keep going.”</p><p>They waited, ducked behind the car.  When the men came into view, Peggy sprang up and punched the first one in the face.  Jack brought the other one down in a flying tackle.  Then the three spies ran for it again.</p><p>They finally reached their own car, parked inconspicuously near a gas station.  Everyone was breathing hard.  Under a streetlight, they sorted themselves out.</p><p>Peggy’s blonde wig had gone askew, and something shiny on a chain hung around her neck like a long necklace where Jack was positive she hadn’t had a necklace before.  Wait, what was that?  That round gold band could only be one thing.</p><p>“Is that a <i>wedding ring</i>?” Jack asked.</p><p>Peggy looked down.  “Oh, for the love of Pete!”  She tucked the ring back into her dress before Jack had a chance to get a better look at it.</p><p>Jack grinned at her.  “Looks like your secret’s out, <i>Miss</i> Carter,” he said.  “Who’s the lucky guy?”</p><p>Peggy raised her eyebrows at him.  “That’s confidential.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Peggy!” Jack said.  “We’ve been working together for more than three years, and you have the nerve to go off and get married without telling anybody about it?”</p><p>Peggy sighed.  “Yes, in fact, I did,” she said.  “I’m afraid you’ll just have to live with disappointment, Chief Thompson.  As I said, it’s confidential.”</p><p>Jack knew better than to try to get any more information out of Peggy when she was like that.  The ride back to the office was quiet, punctuated only by the hiccups of Agent Williams, who tended to hyperventilate after a dangerous mission.  Peggy stalked into the bullpen, collected her things, and left for home without even stopping to change out of her disguise.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>Jack couldn’t imagine why the identity of Peggy’s husband would be confidential.  Was he a war criminal?  Was he an enemy of the SSR?  Was he somebody that ought to be in jail?  The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he got.  </p><p>As usual, there wasn’t anybody around for Jack to talk to about his suspicions.  The problem with trying to get ahead in places like the SSR was that you didn’t have many friends by the end of it.  People didn’t confide in the chief, and he didn’t confide in them.  Sure, Jack would go out drinking with the other agents, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to them about whether Peggy’s mystery husband was dangerous or not.</p><p>He ended up calling Daniel Sousa again.  Sousa was as surprised as Jack had been to find that Peggy was married, and if Jack was any good at reading voices over the phone, Sousa sounded disappointed.  Maybe he’d been hoping things would work out in the end between him and Peggy.  But when Jack brought up his suspicions about Peggy’s husband, Sousa refused to listen to them.</p><p>“Thompson, you’re crazy.  I know Peggy.  I can tell you right now she wouldn’t marry a criminal or somebody who was a danger to the SSR.  Besides, she actually knows Phillips.  If anybody knows who Peggy’s husband is, Phillips does.  He must not be worried about it, or Peggy would have been gone from the SSR a long time ago.”</p><p>Jack wasn’t about to ask Phillips about anything.  Phillips might decide he wanted a new chief for the New York office, and Jack liked his job.  So he let the matter of Peggy and her husband drop.</p><p>The summer rolled into a chilly New York autumn.  On a perfectly ordinary rainy Wednesday evening in the middle of November, Jack and Peggy had to interview a man who might have information about one of Jack’s cases.  Jack was going because it was his case.  Peggy was going in case the man was more willing to spill his story to a woman.</p><p>The interview was several miles out of the city, in a middle-class neighborhood with ordinary, comfortable homes.  Despite the rain, it wasn’t too hard to find their man’s house.  Peggy and Jack sallied forth from the car, rang the doorbell, and spent an hour and a half interrogating a stubborn but not entirely uncooperative witness. </p><p>They had only driven about a mile on their way back when a tire blew out on the car.  Jack managed to steer the car to the side of the road.  </p><p>Peggy swore in British.  “We’ll have to change the tire.”</p><p>Jack jumped out.  “Do we have a spare?” </p><p>There was no spare.  There was no jack, either.  It was pouring rain.</p><p>“Brilliant,” said Peggy in a voice that meant the opposite.  “We’ll have to go back to that neighborhood and get help.  The nearest gas station is four miles from here, and I’m not walking all that way.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right,” Jack said.  He was overcome with a burst of chivalry.  “You stay here in the car.  I’ll go get help.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Peggy said.  “I’m not sitting here in the car while you flounder around in the dark looking for help.  I’m going.”</p><p>They started along the side of the road, trying to avoid puddles with the help of Peggy’s flashlight.  </p><p>“If I knew I was going to walk a mile in the rain, I would have worn my raincoat,” Jack grumbled.  “These things always happen when you least—”</p><p>Jack caught his foot, the world spun around him, and he landed hard on the ground.  There was a sickening crunch.  Pain radiated through his ankle.</p><p>Peggy stopped instantly.  “Jack, are you all right?”</p><p>“No,” Jack groaned, lying on the ground.  “I’m pretty sure my ankle’s broken.”</p><p>He pulled himself to a sitting position and took stock of the ankle.  Trying to move it was agonizing.  </p><p>“Let me see,” Peggy said, bending over the ankle.  “Does it hurt when I press here?”</p><p>She pressed gently above Jack’s ankle bone.  He groaned.  “Yeah.”</p><p>“Can you move it?”</p><p>Jack had already tried that.  “Not unless I wanna pass out.”</p><p>“I think it’s broken.”  Peggy sighed.  “You can’t walk on it.  I’ll have to get help.  Let’s see if we can get you to the car.”</p><p>She straightened up, her midsection at the level of his eyes.  He blinked.  “You’re pregnant.”  Peggy’s A-line skirt didn’t flare out enough to hide the noticeable swell underneath.</p><p>“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” Peggy said dryly.  “Now do you think you can get to the car, or do you want to stay here in the rain while I go for help?”</p><p>Jack sighed.  “I can get to the car.”</p><p>He was grateful they’d only walked a short way.  By hopping on his good ankle, with a bit of support from Peggy, he made it to the car.  Peggy set off along the road, the light of her torch visible for a long time after she had become indistinct in the darkness.</p><p>Jack tried not to think about what the rest of the SSR would say if they heard he had sat in a broken-down car while a pregnant woman went to get help.  He only hoped Peggy didn’t run into any trouble along the way.</p><p>Now that there was nothing else going on, Jack’s ankle began to feel worse and worse.  Peggy was gone for an eternity.  Jack kept telling himself that walking a mile took some time even in the daylight when it wasn’t raining, but pictures kept popping into his head of Peggy getting mugged or breaking her own ankle or getting turned away from every house in the neighborhood.</p><p>Finally, headlights appeared in the distance, and a car shot down the road and pulled up next to Jack.  A big guy in a raincoat got out.  Jack rolled down his window.</p><p>“Jack Thompson?” the man asked, stooping to peer into the car.  </p><p>“That’s the one.”</p><p>“Peggy said I’d find you here.  She stayed behind to warm up.”</p><p>“Who are you?” Jack asked.</p><p>“Peggy’s husband.  Want help switching cars?”</p><p>As it turned out, Jack did need help switching cars.  Trying to maneuver his injured leg out of the car without hurting it any worse was a ticklish business, and he couldn’t seem to get his balance.  It was a good thing Peggy’s mysterious husband was a big guy.  He got Jack out of the car and into the other car with little difficulty.</p><p>Peggy’s husband swung himself into the driver’s seat and sent the car rocketing down the road at an alarming pace, considering the darkness and rain.  Once in the neighborhood, he overshot his driveway by mistake, apologized, threw the car into reverse, and whisked it around the corner and into the driveway, knocking over the trash can at the curb.</p><p>“Where on earth did you learn to drive?” Jack asked.</p><p>“Nazi Germany,” Peggy’s husband said.  “Need any help getting into the house?”</p><p>Jack’s ankle was too painful for him to pay much attention to his surroundings as the man helped him up several steps, into the house, and onto a sofa.  He gasped in relief when the ankle was immobile again.</p><p>As his head cleared, he took stock of the room.  It was a medium-sized living room, furnished with a sofa, a loveseat, and one easy chair, and lit by cozy yellow lamplight.  A fire burned in the fireplace, and Peggy’s coat hung near the fire.</p><p>Peggy’s husband shrugged his coat off and hung it up next to Peggy’s.  His hair was dripping wet.  “The doctor’s on his way,” he told Jack.  “Peggy called him.  We thought it was a better idea than taking you to the hospital.”</p><p>“Fine, thanks.”  Jack surveyed his rescuer.  He had to be the same man who had been eating lunch with Peggy at the restaurant.  He had the same blond hair, and it was unlikely Peggy would go around with more than one big blond guy.  The guy’s face looked somehow familiar, but Jack couldn’t place it.  If he’d been in Nazi Germany he must have been a soldier.  </p><p>A horrible thought came into Jack’s mind: maybe he looked familiar because he had been a high-profile Nazi!  Jack was sure he’d seen pictures of the Nazi leaders before.  He couldn’t remember any of them too well.</p><p>“What did you say your name was?” he asked the man, even though he was positive he hadn’t learned his name earlier.</p><p>“Steve Rogers,” the man said absently, arranging his wet boots by the fire.</p><p>Jack nearly choked.  It suddenly struck him where he’d seen that guy before.  He’d been dressed up in red, white, and blue and featured in posters that were plastered all over the place during the war.  Jack had even seen a couple films with the guy in them. “Ste—Steve <i>Rogers</i>? Captain America?  Isn’t he dead?”  </p><p>“Fortunately for you, he isn’t,” Peggy said, bustling into the room and fixing Jack with a severe look.  “And if you so much as breathe a word to anyone about this, Phillips will take you off that SSR job so fast it’ll make your head swim.  That’s a promise.”</p><p>Jack had seen her look less fierce toward dangerous captured criminals.  “All right, all right, I won’t tell a soul!” he protested.  “I can keep a secret.”</p><p>“You’d better,” Peggy warned him.  Her gaze softened as she turned towards her husband at the fireplace.  “Steve, you’re soaked!  How did you get that wet just picking up Thompson in the car?”</p><p>Peggy went for a towel to dry Steve’s hair, and for a few minutes it was as though the couple had forgotten about Jack’s existence.  Jack was left on the couch with an increasing number of uncomfortable thoughts.  He distinctly remembered a suggestive remark he’d made to Peggy about her relationship with Captain America, back before they went on that mission to Russia in 1946.  She had given him a snappy comeback, but Jack didn’t think it was the kind of thing a dame was likely to forget.  Especially when she ended up marrying the captain in question.  </p><p>Dash it all, Jack never would have said anything if he’d <i>really</i> thought Peggy had had a relationship with Captain America.  And he never would have said it after that trip to Russia, when Peggy saved his life and he learned just how competent a woman fighter could be.</p><p>“Want some soup?” A voice interrupted Jack’s inner self-loathing monologue, and he looked up to see Steve holding a steaming bowl and a spoon.</p><p>“Sure, I’ll try some,” Jack said, although the pain in his ankle was making his stomach feel sick.  “Thanks.”</p><p>“Here you are.”  Steve handed him the soup and turned to go.</p><p>“Hey,” Jack said, stopping him in his tracks.  “How much do you—what did Peggy tell you about me?”</p><p>Steve’s face was serious.  “Quite a lot,” he said.  </p><p>Jack groaned inwardly.  </p><p>Without warning, Steve’s expression changed to a grin.  “She also said you were a good man, despite everything.  She’s still trying to figure out what that key from the Arena Club pin unlocks.”</p><p>He went to join his wife in the kitchen, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief.  The idea of such formidable people as Captain America and Peggy Carter both hating him had been more terrifying than he would ever let on.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>The following June, Jack received a memo from Colonel Phillips, requiring the chiefs and a number of the agents from both branches of the SSR to convene at Fort Lehigh in New Jersey on the 15th.  The memo didn’t have any more information on it.  </p><p>Jack racked his brain trying to figure out what Phillips could be doing.  He called Sousa.  Sousa was busy getting ready to fly out to the East Coast.  He was too busy to talk to Jack, and no, he didn’t know what Phillips was doing.</p><p>Jack swallowed his pride and went to ask Peggy, who had returned from maternity leave not long before.  As usual, he got no information from her.  Apparently knowing that Peggy was married to Captain America didn’t give Jack any useful leverage.</p><p>Jack prepared for the meeting at Fort Lehigh by telling himself that Phillips couldn’t possibly be planning to fire him.  Maybe it was about some new important mission.  Maybe Jack would get to meet some important people.</p><p>Daniel Sousa arrived at the office on the day of the meeting.  He and Jack drove down to New Jersey together.  It was as much as Jack could do not to tell Sousa about Peggy and Captain America, but he heroically restrained himself.  Sousa had plenty of news from the West Coast, which helped to enliven the drive.</p><p>When they arrived at the fort, everything seemed to be in a state of utter pandemonium.  Soldiers in uniform were hurrying back and forth, presumably under orders, and the SSR people and a lot of people Jack didn’t recognize were milling about and talking.  A large area of ground was set up with a podium and chairs.</p><p>Howard Stark was there.  What in the world was Howard Stark doing there?  He was the last person Jack expected to see at an SSR meeting, after the SSR had run themselves ragged trying to convict him of treason.  </p><p>Howard was talking in an animated manner to Peggy and a big guy in a baseball cap and sunglasses who was holding a baby.  Why did somebody bring a baby?  And why did the guy in the cap and sunglasses look familiar?  Jack realized with a start that the man was Steve Rogers.  The baby must be Rogers junior.  Peggy and Steve must not have been able to find a babysitter.</p><p>“What are you staring at, Jack?” Daniel said, following Jack’s gaze.  “Wait, is that Howard Stark?”</p><p>Jack left Daniel to his own mental processes and hurried over to the Stark and Rogers group.  Maybe he could get some information.</p><p>Howard was in the middle of a long harangue about some chemical formula Jack didn’t understand.  Peggy and Steve were listening and nodding.  Jack stood awkwardly on the edge of the circle and pretended to admire the baby.  It was much smaller than he’d expected Captain America’s kid to be, with large brown eyes and a tuft of blond fluff on the top of its head.</p><p>“Oh, there’s Phillips,” Peggy said, interrupting Howard.  “Come on, Steve, we’d better go up.”  She hurried over near the podium, with Steve trailing after her with the baby.  Howard followed them.</p><p>Jack slowly made his way to a seat up front, close to the podium.  A moment later Daniel plunked himself down next to him.  “Who’s that guy talking to Peggy?” he asked.  “And why is there a baby here?”</p><p>“It’s Peggy’s baby,” Jack said, immensely tickled by the shocked look on Daniel’s face.  “The guy’s her husband.”</p><p>Daniel opened his mouth and shut it again.  “Peggy had a baby?” he said.  “And you didn’t even call me agonizing over the situation, the way you agonize over everything else?”</p><p>Jack grinned.  For once, he had had information that Daniel didn’t.  </p><p>“Cheer up,” he said, clapping Daniel on the back.  “At least the baby can’t possibly be a war criminal.  Yet.”</p><p>Daniel looked like he was thinking up a smart remark, but just then Colonel Phillips started talking from the podium, so both SSR chiefs went silent and listened to Phillips’s speech.  In a stentorian voice, as though he were addressing a company of soldiers, Phillips got right to the point and dropped several pieces of information that left Jack reeling: (1) as of that date, June 15th, the SSR would no longer exist; (2) a new organization, known as S.H.I.E.L.D., would take its place; and (3) Phillips was proud to present the director of the new organization, its co-founder along with him and Howard Stark: Director Margaret Carter.</p><p>He called Peggy and Howard up to the podium, and there was a lot of hand-shaking.  Jack sat in his chair, stunned.</p><p>At some point Jack became vaguely aware that the meeting had broken up.  Phillips was gone, and everyone was standing around talking again.</p><p>“Jack, you look like you got hit by a truck,” Daniel said.  “What’s the matter?  Don’t worry, Phillips said none of us are losing our jobs.”</p><p>Jack found relief for his long-suppressed frustration in a howl.  “Nobody tells me <i>anything</i>!”</p>
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